Splatoon: Two Worlds Collide
by Bandicoot Sauce
Summary: The war between the Inklings and the Octarians has been ongoing since long before the theft of the Great Zap Fish, and still seems to be far from over. When agents of the two warring factors meet outiside of the field of battle, however, something new is created. Something... inkredible. Kind of like this fanfic. (DISCONTINUED)
1. Equipped, Newfound Hope

**Splatoon: Two Worlds Collide**

1\. Equipped; Newfound Hope

Violet's POV:

Power couplings crackle uselessly, the last of their precious sparks of electricity fizzling out even as I walk by. Kettles remain silent and still, each of them blocked and unusable. I can't get home. I can't get anywhere. All I can do is walk along the path through the abandoned ruins, ink around me on all sides. Pink. Blue. Green. Orange. Yellow. All manner of colours line what's left of safe walking space. I kick at a bit of gravel as I continue my slow, meaningless trek. I have nothing left. None of us do.

And it's all their fault.

After decades... No, after _centuries_ of planning, longing, hoping beyond hope, we finally did it. We finally took back what was rightfully ours. Our future looked brighter than it had in more than a thousand years since the brave DJ Octavio managed to sneak into the forbidden Inkopolis under cover of darkness and reclaim the Great Zap Fish. We had power. We had energy. We had something to believe in, something to fight for other than sheer survival after all this time. With the grand source of power in our grasp once more, we were set to reclaim our long-lost territory. Our true home.

But they couldn't have that. They couldn't handle it. Oh, how self-centred they are.

Cuttlefish. That name will surely go down in history as the name of the most despicable usurping thief who ever lived. Him and his stupid agents. All three of them. Together, those stuck-up, greedy imbeciles drove our best troops back and once again stole the Great Zap Fish. I can't say for certain, but rumours say that it's draped around the tallest building of their good-for-nothing society's city like some sick, living trophy. Oh, how those Inklings disgust me. How they disgust us all.

My name, it is… No. I will not divulge my true name. My name is a symbol of my integrity, my dignity. For many of us Octarians, such traits are all that are left, if anything. I shall go by the cover title of… Hang on, let me think for a second.

Violet. Yes, I suppose that name will suffice. It's not even close to my real name. Which is Ruby.

OH, DAMN IT!

Oh, what does it even matter anymore?! I'm an Octoling who has no home, no remaining allies and has only just reached the age of maturity, meaning that I can take on a humanoid form. What difference will it really make if my true name, the only thing in the world that I can hold sacred, is out there for all to tarnish?! You know what? Just call me Violet anyway!

As I walk cautiously around the ink, I come to a sudden stop, the sole of my boot pressing against something that has a noticeably different texture to the rest of the hard ground. It's something hard and unnatural. I look down to see a small firearm with an ink tank attachment, abandoned in this graffitied, tainted valley of forgotten dreams. I reach down and pick it up, turning it over in my hand. It's not Octarian tech, so it must've been left here by an Inkling. It looks to be in good shape, suggesting that it was used recently by one of those agents of Cuttlefish. The ink canister is, unsurprisingly, empty. While I wouldn't want to be caught dead armed with an enemy weapon by choice, this thing just might be my ticket to sanctuary. My people are extremely susceptible to ink that is not the colour of that which we produce ourselves. It is a common weakness the Inklings and we Octarians share. It is the _only_ thing we share, however. I will not compare myself to one who would probably see me dead on sight.

I reach behind me with the ink canister, holding it up towards the middle of my back. With a slight hiss, it latches onto my ink pouch through my armour, fusing with my torso, automatically adjusting so that it feels comfortably merged with my flesh. The device equipped, I shift into my octopus form, letting my body's natural ink drip all over the ground until a decent-sized puddle of purple Octoling ink is formed. Once it is deep enough, I submerge myself in it, the substance feeling cool and refreshing against my suckers. As well as being pleasant and somewhat comforting, this ink is also filling the weapon's canister. Once I feel enough weight in it, I reassume my humanoid form and, aiming the gun at the ground, I spray a series of small bursts of my own ink at that left behind by the Inklings. Success! This weapon, though defiled by its former user's hostility and wickedness, is in excellent working order. After creating a path of ink through… well, _more_ ink, I take to octopus form again and glide seamlessly along the ground, feeling a sense of relief flowing through me. Stuck back there surrounded by enemy ink, I was trapped, slowly starving as I wandered the same small path for hours and hours and hours. But now, I can explore a little more freely and - hopefully - find some food.

I soon come to an old shack near the edge of Octo Valley. I can see poor DJ Octavio trapped in some kind of reinforced glass case like a specimen of some sort. The brave fighter and celebrated music lover is fast asleep, probably locked in saddening dreams of woe that reflects his prison. I don't even try to break him out; a mere pistol like this probably won't even leave a mark on that glass. Moving onward, I notice a grate on the floor of the clearing. It looks like a hatch leading to a sewer system. My stomach rumbles loudly and a thought occurs to me:

If I follow the sewer passage, will I find civilisation and, to that end, nourishment?

At this point, I don't have much of a choice. I shift into my inky octopus form and slide easily through the bars of the grate, not knowing that I am heading down a path that will not only save my life, but change it forever...


	2. Escape To The City

2\. Escape To The City

Inkers' POV:

Cooler heads. I've always liked this store. Or I would if it weren't for a certain clownfish who can't keep his mouth shut.

"GET OUTTA HERE!" Moe bellows as I step through the automatic doors of the shop.

"Watch it, you overacting sardine," I say, narrowing my green eyes at the fish sitting atop Annie, the inkredibly shy shopkeeper. I then move my gaze to meet hers, reserving a kinder, more gentle look for the young lady with coral-like hair. She blushes slightly and looks at the floor while Moe opens and closes his mouth silently, presumably making rude comments under his breath.

"W-welcome to Cooler Heads," Annie says in her usual shaky tone, straightening her glasses, but still not looking directly at me. "What can I do f-for… um…"

"WHADDA YA WANT, BUB?" Moe demanded, speaking for his owner.

"I was just wondering if you have any of those trucker hats in stock yet?" I say politely, resisting the urge to grab that stupid fish and flush him down the nearest toilet.

"We… We should have some in by tomorrow," Annie says meekly, looking sincerely apologetic. "I'm s-sorry for any… any inconvenience," She looks like she might cry. I walk slowly over and place a hand gingerly on her shoulder.

"Hey," I say softly. "It's okay. I can wait. Thank you for your honesty, Annie."

"FLIRTER ALERT! FLIRTER ALERT!" Moe shouts wildly, yelling loud enough for the Octarians in Octo Valley to hear. I roll my eyes and vacate the premises, but not before giving a warm smile and wave to the young shopkeeper, acting as though that little obnoxious aquarium exhibit on her head isn't trying for all it's worth to embarrass us both. She manages to return my smile very fleetingly and then turns away and begins to rearrange the hats on display. I hear Moe yell, "YOU'LL BE BACK, HOT LIPS!"

I swear I'm going to get that clownfish one of these days. Why couldn't he be more like that clownfish from that movie? That one about finding… something. It was written on a Sunken Scroll we studied in history class. I shrug, pushing all thoughts of loudmouthed marine life aside while I leave Inkopolis Plaza behind, catching the monorail to Blackbelly Skatepark. There are no Turf Wars here today, for they're being held in Saltspray Rig and Urchin Underpass. Thus, Inkling teens like myself are free to go skateboarding. As soon as I move off the station platform, it's straight onto my board and I'm up the nearest half-pipe before you can say 'Escape From The City', and that's exactly what I start to sing joyfully. It's an ancient song recorded on a primitive transmitter that was unearthed by archaeologists a few years back. Once it was translated into Inkese, all the kids were singing it for months. It's not as popular now, but I still like it.

 _"Follow me. Set me free._

 _Trust me and we will escape from the city._

 _I'll make it though, prove it to you... Follow me!_

 _Oh, yeah!"_

The beings of old had good taste, even if some of them probably ate… well, us.

"Hey, hot shot!"

I look around at the sound of that familiar voice. In my moment of distraction, my board ploughs roughly into the nearest wall and I'm ejected from it and sent sprawling. I quickly shift into squid form to cushion the landing. I flop around clumsily for a few seconds before returning to human form with a light pop. I grin sheepishly at Squelch, my best friend, as she stands there, her usual toothy grin having faltered to be replaced with worry.

"I'm okay!" I assure her quickly, getting to my feet and picking up my board. She chuckles with relief and flicks one of her bright orange head tentacles over her shoulder.

"Never a dull moment, eh, Inkers?" she asks knowingly.

"Ah, you know me; living life like there's no tomorrow," I declare smugly, doing a perfect ollie with my board and throwing in more singing just to amuse Squelch.

"You're priceless, Inky!" she exclaims, laughing.

"Hey, don't call me that!" I plead, feeling my cheeks redden with embarrassment. That nickname is just so silly. Squelch started calling me that a few years ago and it makes me feel so awkward for some reason. I'm not even sure why. Whenever she calls me Inky, I get embarrassed and she can't stop giggling.

"Definitely priceless!" Squelch declares, cackling mischievously. "Ah, what would I do without you around to give me a good laugh?"

"Well, you've got a mirror, haven't you?" I say cheekily.

"Ooh, you're going to pay for that!" Squelch says, running at me and playfully slugging me in the shoulder. We then both get into a playful scuffle, ending with me pinning her down and letting out a loud belch right in her face.

"Oh, well put, blue tentacles!" she exclaims, giggling madly. "You got more pizza breath to share with me or is that the full extent of-?"

"BURRRP!"

"WHOA! Brush your fangs much?"

"Oh, what's it to you?" I declare teasingly, tickling her under the chin. She laughs and pushes me off of her, getting to her feet and grabbing her board.

"I'm going to skate circles around you!" she cries, a wild, feral look in her eye. I know that look all too well. She's about to get crazy. Crazy awesome, that is.

"Then all you'll achieve is making yourself dizzy!" I insist, leaping onto my own board and hitting the nearest grind rail.

After a whole afternoon of competitive skateboarding - friendly competition, of course - we start to head back to the plaza, looking to grab something to eat before turning in. I love hanging out with Squelch. She says that I make her life fun, but in truth, it is _she_ who makes things awesome for _me_. We've been best friends since long before we matured. Our respective mothers raised us in the same ink pool. I think it's safe to say that there's scarcely a closer pair of Inklings in the world. Together, we look at life as an adventure.

And yet, as much as I love my life in Inkopolis, I'd like to experience something new, something that hasn't happened to any Inkling boy before. I want to make a difference.

But above all, I want to have fun, and I want to share that fun with people who need it most. It's just who I am.

I'm a kid. I'm a squid.

And I'm alive.

* * *

Violet's POV:

I can hear voices. Nearby voices. I need to be cautious. I can't afford to get noticed. Not here. Not now.

I'm standing below the sewer hatch that leads up into Inkopolis, the home of my natural enemy: Inklings. I'm playing a dangerous game being here, but it's too late to back out now. My stomach's still rumbling, and the sensation's starting to hurt. I will surely perish if I don't find food soon.

I lift the hatch slightly, peeking out at the streets of Inkopolis. This area's not very crowded. The full moon is rising over the city and neon lights are starting to switch on all over the place. This plaza-like area is almost devoid of life, save for a couple of Inklings walking by. They don't appear to be armed, but I'm not taking any chances. These fiends can be as crafty as they are lucky. I need to choose my moment carefully.

Running a hand through my tentacles, I brace myself, backing up a bit. It's time to see if my training has paid off. I look down at my black boots, barely visible in the minimal light flowing down into the sewer. These boots are part of the standard uniform of an Octarian warrior trained in Turf War combat. Together with my armour and goggles, they offer light movement, night vision, moderate protection and are ideal for stealth. I listen intently to make sure no one is passing by directly above. Taking a deep breath - an action that I instantly regret as the stench of raw Inkling sewage swamps my sinuses - I run forward and unleash a flying kick upward.

The hatch goes flying straight up and I instantly leap out after it, front-flipping through the air to land on the sidewalk in a fighting stance, gun strapped to the canister on my back. The grate lands neatly back where it belongs behind me and, satisfied that I wasn't seen, I run, slipping in and out of the shadows, the dark colouring of my uniform helping me to blend in with the darkness. I take care to never falter for a moment in the light lest I meet a sticky end should someone raise the alarm. I slink along the front of the display window of a recording studio, crouching behind a mailbox as an old Inkling man with a beard and beady eyes shuffles past slowly, leaning precariously on a walking stick that looks like he carved it himself. I recognise him as Cuttlefish. I scowl, wishing that I could ink the old fool into next week. I continue onward, slipping into a back alley, finding a pair of large containers with glass windows on the front. They are full of packaged foods and beverages. I allow a smug grin to slip across my face. I can take what I need, slip away quietly and no one will ever know I was here.

I browse the buttons that line the glass barrier that stands between me and my rudimentary dinner, furrowing my brow in puzzlement. I lift my goggles up to gaze at them with my own pink eyes. Reading the inscriptions, I realise that these machines require payment to access their contents. Drat! I lack currency, for it is not a necessity on the field of battle. Frustration getting the better of me, I grab one of the food dispensers and start shaking it wildly, hoping that some of its contents might spill out.

"Hey, easy, small fry!" a voice calls. I gasp and whirl around, drawing my firearm to aim it at a teenager with the most bizarre head coral I have ever seen. It looks as though it was doused in purple ink and struck by lightning. The boy connected to it is no different; strange as can be, surrounded by a pile of Super Sea Snails. I'd wager that he actually _lives_ in this alleyway.

"Get back!" I bark, ready to fire at the spot right between his eyes. He seems unfazed by the weapon as he gets to his feet, one of those disgusting Sea Snails in his right hand.

"Don't point that thing at me, sister," he exclaims disapprovingly. "No sense being edgy and uptight just 'cause you're a little hungry. Here," he continues, producing a coin from the pocket of his tattered clothes and inserting it into the machine. "It's on me." I watch as he pushes one of the buttons so that a packet of salted sea cucumbers drops into the retrieval chute. "Don't say I never did anything for you."

This Inkling is clearly out of his mind. He probably hasn't even noticed that I'm an Octoling. Whatever he does with those Sea Snails, it must be affecting his common sense. I snatch the packaged snack out of the machine and back away slowly, never moving my gun away from his direction.

"You never saw me," I say warningly.

"Whatever," the Inkling hermit mutters, going back to his pile of Sea Snails. The instant he sits down, he falls asleep. Definitely not all there, but he could still be dangerous. I retrace my steps to the sewer hatch…

…In time to see Cuttlefish climb down into the drain, closing the hatch behind him _and locking it_. I stare at it, mortified. I'm trapped in enemy territory! Ugh! I let out a frustrated groan. Honestly, what else could go wrong?

"Hey, are you alright over there?"

I spin around to see someone approaching me. It's someone with white hair, wearing a somewhat extravagant outfit.

I stare at her.

She stares at me.

I raise my gun.

She bolts, shouting her head off. "OCTARIANS! THERE'S AN OCTARIAN IN BOOYAH BASE!"

And just like that, everything is falling apart. Shouts begat shouts. Panic begats panic. And I'm standing there in the midst of it all. I can see Inklings running away from me on all sides, but I know it's only a matter of time before they come running _towards_ me, heavily armed. And sure enough, I can see a blue tentacled Inkling boy nearby, calm and collected amongst the panicking citizens, raising one of those Inkling-made Charger weapons. I'm about to be inked into next week. I can't stand up to that kind of firepower. He's too far away and my weapon has limited range whereas he can easily blast me without moving an inch. I do the only thing I can do.

I throw up my arms. That's right; I'm surrendering, not that I think it'll make a difference. These Inklings won't show me any mercy. They didn't show any mercy for DJ Octavio. They-

Wait a minute.

DJ Octavio is... still alive.

The Inklings didn't finish him off when they easily could have.

So what does that mean?

The Inkling boy stares at me, looking alert, but also curious. He seems surprised about something.

He stares at me.

I stare into his green eyes.

An Inkling girl with orange head tentacles runs up beside him, tugging at his arm gently. He turns to face her. She looks at him imploringly before glancing at me. He nods, lowering his weapon and the two hurry away. For a moment, I'm left in disbelief.

He had me right in his crosshair, but he didn't go for the kill.

And I've been taught that an Inkling will always, _always_ go for the kill.

I don't have time to dwell on it, however. Someone in the panicked crowd cries, "There it is! Get it!" and points at me. I take that as my cue to run, fleeing into the city, fleeing deeper into enemy territory.

Fleeing into the future, and who can say what it will hold?


	3. Of Closets And Doors

3: Of Closets And Doors

Squelch's POV:

The world's gone mad, judging by the frequently repeated newscasts.

All Turf Wars banned until further notice. That's insane! And why were they banned? Because one Octoling slipped through the defence perimeter, or whatever. Honestly, how much damage can one little Octoling do?

I'm not gonna lie; I'm worried, if only because the future of Inkopolis looks uncertain. When they cancel the Turf Wars, the very definition of fun and excitement in this city, where will it end? How soon before our other liberties are cut off to us?

And all because one dumb Octoling had to rear its head where it wasn't wanted. No one's seen it since Marie unceremoniously raised the alarm. I hear she's still freaking out, actually.

No, not the Octoling - _Marie!_ Sheesh, try to keep up, will ya?

Sorry. This whole thing just has me on edge. I'm actually sitting on the edge of my bed right now, Inky beside me. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders comfortingly while I stare at the floor, my Splattershot in my hand. My ink canister lies discarded in the corner, empty. I see no reason to fill it up. Without Turf Wars, what's the point?

"It'll be okay, Squelch," Inkers tells me, patting my shoulder. "Sooner or later, everything will be sorted out and Inkopolis will go back to being the way it's supposed to be."

I nod, barely listening. I let my gun fall to the floor. It lands with a soft thud on the carpet, bouncing once before settling, motionless.

"I hope so," I say, letting out a small sniff. "It's just… you and I… We worked so hard to get our rank so high up, to become two of the freshest Inklings in town. I don't want that to go to waste. I don't want it to become mere history, not while we're still around to enjoy it."

Inkers doesn't say anything, but I know that he understands me, and I him. We can be ourselves around each other. We feel no need to keep feelings or secrets bottled up; we can start talking about anything and our opinions of one another will never waver.

"Whatever happens, we should just take each day as it comes," Inkers states. "Yes, unexpected changes are happening right now in our world, in our lives, but that doesn't mean everything's come to a halt for us. We're still here. We're still okay. We still have lives, and we can live them. We can enjoy them, and it starts when we get up, hold our heads high, step forward and keep going in that direction."

I look at him in awe. "How are you always so smart like that?" I ask.

"I have to be," he responds. "I have you as my best friend, don't I? _Someone_ needs to do the thinking."

"Oh, shut up," I say, chuckling. I playfully slug him in the shoulder. He slugs me right back and blows a raspberry. I laugh and tackle him onto the bed, pinning him down. He doesn't seem worried, though; he's laughing way harder than I am.

"Oh, how I love riling you up!" he teases. "It's so inkredibly easy!"

"You love everything!" I exclaim. "You loved it when you scraped your knee that time! You kept bragging about how it was 'experience'!"

"Yeah, experience in knowing how to get you to fuss over me." the Inkling boy says cheekily. He then yelps as I tickle him under the arms.

"Too bad you don't have experience freeing yourself from my grasp!" I declare, grinning madly.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Inkers muses smugly, reaching for the nearby TV remote, making no attempt to escape as he does so. He switches on the set and a music video blares loudly throughout the room. I freeze, a disbelieving grin on my face as I slowly turn my head to see Callie on screen singing a solo rendition of the famous Squid Sisters medley. I love this song. Inkers knows it, and why not? He loves it, too, and not just because he loves everything. This song is all the rage for us squid kids. It's like a fire in the ink that flows through us, burning in the most pleasant, satisfying way, filling us with an inexplicable warmth. Though I have to admit, it doesn't sound quite the same without Marie. Regardless, I abruptly release Inkers, stand up straight, face the TV and shake what my momma gave me. Inkers quickly follows suit, looking like he's having the time of his life.

Violet's POV:

I peek out of the closet, startled by that sudden loud and very strange music. I've been cooped up in here all night. Not the most practical hiding spot in a populated city perhaps, but I was desperate and had to take what I could get. Thank the plankton that someone left the window open. With that mob in hot pursuit, I only had enough time and energy for one good super jump, so I really got lucky.

What is this? Those Inklings appear to be shaking their rears at me. Do they know I'm in here? Are they mocking me, perhaps? No, they appear quite distracted, actually…

"Oh, yeah! This feels great!" the girl says, sounding gleeful.

"Totally invigorating," the boy says in agreement. "Rejuvenating, even."

Great? Invigorating? What is so great about…? Oh! I understand now. This must be a form of physical exercise for them. That makes sense. I suppose they'd want to stay in shape if they hope to take on the Octarians and win, because it's sure not their brain power that's giving them an edge, as illustrated by their current silly behaviour and their enthusiasm regarding such.

 _"That was Callie, one of the acclaimed Squid Sisters, singing her number one hit as a special treat to lighten the mood in these dark times,"_ the broadcast's announcer says. Intriguing. It seems that the Inklings look to music to improve their morale. Could that play a role in their apparently lucky streak against my people?

I duck back into the closet. Now is not the time to ponder such things. Those food rations I acquired last night have long since ran out and I'm growing hungry again, not to mention thirsty. This storage closet is a little stuffy and it's not doing wonders for my sinuses. But alas, I am well-trained to be resilient and I shall hold out for as long as I need to.

My stomach rumbles softly.

My throat aches a little.

I feel like I might sneeze at any time.

A little moan escapes me. The Inklings are too caught up in their frivolity to notice. They were actually singing along with the music just now. How undisciplined and immature.

"I feel like a million volts now!" the boy exclaims, turning to grin brightly at his associate.

"Me, too," the girl admits, looking far more energetic than she had before.

"Let's go for a soda pop," The boy says, starting out of the room.

"Yeah, hang on, I'll just throw this in the closet," The girl says, taking off the brown jacket she had been wearing over her top. I freeze up as the closet door is flung open, my heart racing, but she doesn't even look at me, just wildly throwing her coat on top of me and closing the door while still facing and addressing her associate. "I'm glad you came over, Inkers. You always know how to cheer me up."

"I just do what comes naturally," The boy, Inkers, says modestly. The pair leave the room, and once I'm sure they're gone, I rip the jacket off of myself and throw it onto the closet floor, disgusted. It smells… _odd_. Not unpleasant, but decidedly odd, and just being within nasal vicinity of such an odd scent makes me uncomfortable. It's just another reminder that I'm stuck in this unfamiliar, unwelcoming place. I slump into a sitting position, my knees close to my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around them, holding them close. I may be a soldier, but I'm still just a kid. I'm a trainee. I feel pain. I feel emotions.

And right now, I feel scared and alone.

No matter how tough I might try to be, I can't deny that I just want to go home. It may not be much better than here, but at least I'm wanted there.

* * *

Nightfall. And about time, too. I've been cooped up in this closet for close to twenty-four hours. I need to siphon my ink pouch, and I'm not talking about my gun's canister. I have to find a restroom ASAP. Squelch, as she is apparently known, is finally asleep. I know this because I had to sit through three hours of those two kids talking, consuming their dinner while staring at the TV like moths drawn to a flame and playing 'video games', whatever those are. Such forms of entertainment involve a holographic projection of a strange blue creature running at high speeds collecting rings. The whole concept is just pointless nonsense if you ask me. Who would be amused by watching a strange life form doing what comes naturally for it? It might be intriguing to a scientist, but otherwise…

I push the closet door open all the way. It creaks loudly and I gasp. Squelch lets out a loud snort and rolls over in her sleep. "No, I couldn't possibly eat another bite," she mumbles stupidly. I roll my eyes. How these layabouts ever got the drop on us, I'll never fathom.

I creep out into the hallway, starting down a corridor. If this is a domestic dwelling, it seems rather large for just two Inklings. But then, going by the tales I've heard, they've always been rather indulgent in many aspects. I live in a rickety metal shack that needs the roof rebuilt after every downpour of rain. There must be a restroom along here somewhere…

Someone suddenly steps out of a doorway up ahead, immediately turning to the right, and if I hadn't crouched behind a large potted seaweed plant within the nick of time, he would've seen me. It's Inkers, a toothbrush in his mouth as he walks down the corridor. I should've expected such; he and Squelch were discussing something called a 'sleepover' earlier. Apparently, it literally means to sleep over at someone else's residence. Safety in numbers, perhaps? Are Inklings actually _afraid_ to sleep alone in their own homes at night? On a hunch, I creep over to the room he just vacated and sure enough, it's the restroom. I do what needs to be done and wash my hands in the nearby sink, gazing at my reflection in the mirror hanging over it. I can't believe how lucky I am that these Inklings own a working faucet that produces ink in a variety of colours, so I was able to access the necessary purple ink to decontaminate my hands. Inklings and Octarians alike don't bode well where water is concerned. No, any liquids we handle had best be ink. Anyway, I notice that I'm still wearing my goggles. I push them up to reveal my eyes. Oh, boy. I've been wearing goggles for so long that they've left pale markings around my eyes. I reach up and pull my headgear off entirely. Ahhh… Now _this_ is rejuvenating. I can't remember the last time my head was unencumbered and the full extent of my tentacles could feel the air around me. Oh, if only a light breeze would pass through here…

I notice a nearby window that's partly open. I hurry over and push it all the way up, sticking my head right out. I close my eyes and savour the breeze. Oh, wow, that feels good. For the first time since this whole ordeal started - no, for the first time in _ages_ \- I feel free. I open my eyes and gaze around at the scenery. Bright neon lights. Electronic billboards. The Great Zap Fish draped around Inkopolis Tower. I allow my worries and concerns to slip away for a moment as I look down at the streets below and see none other than Cap'n Cuttlefish slinking by at a sea snail's pace. Feeling uncharacteristically cheeky, I wave to him. He doesn't even notice. Silly old coot. Even if he had bothered to look up, I doubt he'd be able to pick out one Octoling in the darkness. I chuckle and pull my head back inside the house, stretching casually as I turn around, my goggles still grasped in my hand.

Squelch is standing in the bathroom doorway, open-mouthed. My smile immediately falters and my goggles fall from my hand, clattering loudly against the tiled floor.

She screams.

I scream as well, completely horrified at how stupidly careless I had let myself become.

She screams again.

I scream again.

She screams once again, brandishing a finger at me, trying to find the words, but all she can do is scream and scream and scream.

And I just stand there following suit like an idiot.

Squelch suddenly bolts, her hurried footsteps echoing through the hallway. I pull myself together, re-equip my goggles and pursue her, glad that I held onto my gun through all of this. I emerge into the hallway in time to see Squelch disappear into a room at the far end of the corridor, slamming the door behind her. I race over and fling it open.

No one in there.

I turn as Squelch inexplicably comes running out of another room, still screaming like a lunatic as she takes cover in another room. I start over that way when she runs out of yet _another_ room. What in the world is going on here?!

On a whim - and a shaky one at that - I enter the room that I'm currently standing in front of and see Squelch hiding in there. She runs right past me as I struggle with the trigger on my gun; the darn thing's jammed! She goes back out into the hallway and I follow her into another room, back out into the hallway by means of another door somehow and from there, it's just nonsensical chaos. In one door and out another - literally! It's surreal! Is this a nightmare or has the pressure of being trapped in Inkopolis finally gotten to me?

As we come out of yet another room, I become aware that somehow, in all the confusion, Squelch has started to chase me instead of the other way around. I realise this as we disappear into another room, coming out with me being chased by a strange cat with a bow-tie while I chase Squelch. Another room and I'm chasing the cat, with no sign of Squelch. Another door and it's just me on my own, but I quickly run headlong into the strange blue creature from the video game…?! As we collide, gold rings fly out of him, scattering everywhere.

"Come on, step it up!" he exclaims as he picks himself up, dusts himself off and races off at incredible speed through another door. I then find myself only able to watch as two exquisitely dressed female Inklings come out of yet another room, dancing across the hall, singing that strange music from earlier. I think one of them might be that Callie person from the broadcast. The other is the Inkling who got me into this whole mess in the first place. They enter another room and the hallway falls silent.

"WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!" I scream hysterically, completely freaked out at this point. I turn around, shriek with fright when I find Inkers' face inches from mine and stumble backwards through another door, ending up back in Squelch's room. I'm actually relieved, At least here I can jump out the window and leave this madhouse behind. I start for the window and skid to a halt, mortified to find it closed. There's no time to get it open. Inkers will enter the room and be upon me in little more than a second. I scramble for the closet, fling the door open and find Squelch already hiding in there. She screams. I scream. She screams again. I wail and stumble back again...

...Right into Inkers' waiting arms, and it's there that I finally pass out, finding all of this too much.

Inkers' POV:

I'm a little bewildered as the Octoling girl slumps into my arms. She glances up at my face briefly, gives a little groan and promptly faints.

"Ohmygosh, there's an Octoling in my house! A FREAKING OCTOLING!" shrieks Squelch. The poor girl's completely worked up. I lift the Octoling girl onto Squelch's bed, gently resting her head on the pillow. Now I need to calm Squelch down before _she_ passes out as well.

"Squelch, relax," I say gently. "She's unconscious. She's not hurting anyone anytime soon."

"We gotta get it outta here! We need to hand it over to the authorities!" Squelch babbles, panicked. I walk over, shush her gently and start patting her shoulder. She's shaking violently. "What if it wakes up and tries to-?!"

"Squelch, _calm down_ ," I plead, pulling her into a comforting embrace. "It's going to be alright. We need to help her."

"I know, but if we don't call the… _What?!"_ she exclaims, wide-eyed. "Inky, WHAT are you talking about?"

"Look at her, Squelch. She was just as scared of us as we are of her. Why do you think she didn't attack immediately?"

"M-maybe she was waiting for the r-right moment or something," Squelch says, trembling. "Inky, please get her out of here. We're not safe with her around. She's an Octarian. They've never wanted anything but trouble for us."

"Maybe," I say, nodding solemnly, "But Octarians are supposed to always go for the kill, right? So why didn't this one? Don't you see, Squelch? Something's not right here."

"But-"

"Squelch, the Octolings I fought in Octo Valley always came straight at me. They didn't hesitate for even a second. But this girl…" He shook his head. "Something's different this time. There's something going on here that we don't understand."

Squelch swallowed hard. "So what do we do?" she asked meekly.

"We wait," I say simply. "We wait and see what happens."

"Well, we should at least tell Mom and Dad."

"Not yet, Squelch."

"What? But what if-?"

"We have weapons and we know how to use them," I state, pulling out my Splattershot Pro. "I'll keep her covered, and besides, your parents are away on business, remember?"

Squelch sighs in resignation, looking uncomfortable. "Okay, but I'm going to sleep in the other room."

" _Which_ other room?" I ask, a teasing smile playing at the corners of my mouth. There's that many other rooms in this place that it's not funny.

"Oh, shove off," Squelch exclaims, stifling a giggle in spite of herself.


	4. Pain In The Neck, Agony In My Back

4: Pain In The Neck, Agony In My Back.

Violet's POV:

"Ungh… What…?" I begin, opening my eyes, my vision hazy. I find myself staring up at a ceiling that's initially unfamiliar. What is this? Did I get inked really hard during training or something?

My memories come flooding back along with my vision and I sit bolt upright. I suddenly become aware of a sharp pain up along my back. I realise that I was sleeping on my ink canister. My back aches, my head aches (though not quite as much as my back) and I'm still stuck in an Inkling domicile. What else can go wrong?

"Morning," a cheerful voice says from right beside me and I scream, leaping up and drawing my pistol. Standing atop the bed, gun aimed right at my adversary's forehead, I find myself looking at Inkers. He's just sitting there in a little wooden chair, tilting his head innocently. Was he… watching me while I slept? What the heck?!

"Stay away from me!" I command, my voice a little shaky, my hand equally so as I struggle to hold my gun steady. After whatever the heck was going on last night, I think my nerves are close to shattered.

"Hey, whoa, easy!" Inkers exclaims, putting his hands up slowly. "No need to freak out. I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not even armed."

"What do you take me for?" I demand, narrowing my eyes. The boy's gaze flickers to a nearby table. A number of firearms and inksplosives are strewn about atop it.

"See? It's okay," Inkers says gently, cautiously getting to his feet. "You're in no danger here."

"I'm always in danger in enemy territory," I growl. "But not as much as you are right now!" I declare, tightening my finger around the trigger. Inkers closes his eyes, waiting for the swift and inevitable-

The swift and inevitable-

The… swift and inevitable…?

"Rrrargh!" I roar in frustration. "The stupid thing's still jammed!"

"Hey, wait a minute…" Inkers says as he opens his eyes and stares down the barrel of my weapon. "That's mine."

I frown. _"What?"_

"That Splattershot Jr.," Inkers continues. "I lost that in Octo Valley."

"In…?" My eyes widen, my face rapidly contorting with outrage. " _You_ stole the Great Zap Fish! YOU'RE AGENT 3!" I screech, letting my weapon fall to my side as I leap at the boy and tackle him to the floor, trying to wrap my hands tightly around his throat. "MY PEOPLE ARE TOILING IN DARKNESS BECAUSE OF YOU! I'LL MAKE SURE YOU- YEE! What're you _doing?!"_ I exclaim, feeling an uncomfortable sensation as the young Inkling reaches up desperately and gently rubs his index finger against the underside of my chin. The experience doesn't hurt exactly, but it certainly doesn't feel right. I find myself instinctively recoiling, relinquishing my hold on the boy. I stare at him in bewilderment as he continues to lie there on the floor. He smiles up at me knowingly. I go for his throat again and this time, his hands find their way under my arms. That rubbing movement, that feeling inside me… It's far more shocking to my system when generated from under my arms. It's like a brief current of electricity is surging through me. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make me react. It's strange; the sensation actually makes me want to laugh somehow. "Stop that!" I order, annoyed. He relents. I move to grab his throat. He starts on the offensive again and this time, he doesn't hold back. Oh, nelly! It's unbearable! It's impossible to describe! It's… It's…

"Are you going to stop trying to strangle me?" Inkers asks in a somewhat teasing tone as he manages to roll over, pinning me underneath his chest. "Well? Are you?"

"St-stop!" I plead, giggling uncontrollably. I can't help it. This experience just makes me feel all light and giddy, but not in a good way. Not in a natural way. "I do-hon't like this!"

"I'll stop if you'll calm down and quit lashing out." he says, keeping the assault in full swing. He's targeting my underarms, my ribs and my neck alternatively, the former particularly hard to bear. I'm laughing now. I feel helpless. All I can do is laugh and struggle. Mostly laugh.

"Alright!" I gasp, starting to feel out of breath. "I'll relent! I'll keep my ha-hands to mysel-helf! Just stop! PLEA-HEE-HEASE!" I wail. I feel like I might soil my garments if this torture doesn't end soon. Inkers finally relents and I instantly feel relieved, panting heavily as I try to catch my breath, feeling completely winded. I don't even consider trying to resume my assault when I'm recovered; there's no way I'm going through that again. "What have you… done to me?" I manage to gasp out. "I feel… weak."

"What? I was just tickling you," the boy says casually. "A rather lenient response considering you were trying to THROTTLE ME!"

"Well, I…" I begin, sitting up as he moves away, trying to think of a response. "I was scared. And I hate you. So there."

"Oh, nice," Inkers says, rolling his eyes. "That's the thanks I get for making sure you're alright. Well, fine, whatever." He gets up and walks over to the window, sliding it open. "Off you go, then. You don't want my help, so…" He trails off with a nonchalant shrug.

"I'm not going out there!" I exclaim. "It's broad daylight and there are vicious Inklings everywhere!"

"We are _not_ vicious!" Inkers insists, folding his arms. "I thought _you_ guys were vicious until recently!"

"You thought…?! Why, you miserable… You stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking…!" I cry, trailing off, sickened by his hypocritical ignorance. Far from finding my remark insulting, however, he proceeds to burst out laughing.

"Oh, man, that's the funniest thing I've heard all week!" he exclaims, cackling. "Scruffy-looking indeed! Oh, that's priceless!"

"Yeah, keep laughing, you sneaking Zap Fish thief," I snarl. "I should make you into a seafood platter!"

"I didn't steal the Great Zap Fish!" Inkers insists. "You and your friends stole it! I just helped take it back!"

"AND WHY DO YOU THINK _WE_ STOLE IT?" I demand. "BECAUSE _YOU_ GREEDY IMBECILES TOOK IT FROM _US_ IN THE FIRST PLACE! It was rightfully ours, along with this land!"

"That's a lie!" Inkers says, but his voice is shaky now. "It _is_ a lie… isn't it?"

I groan in frustration, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "It doesn't matter. You have it again and my people…" I sigh heavily. "My people are lost. And so am I. Trapped in a world where I don't belong, a world I neither understand nor desire to. I have… I have nothing left except my family. Oh, I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"No, I get it," Inkers assures me. "What I _don't_ get is why you didn't try to destroy me at first sight."

"What _I_ don't get is why _you_ haven't tried to destroy _me_... _at all_ ," I say. "Reality is turning upside down around me and I don't know what to do, what I _can_ do, what I _should_ do. All I know is that I have to get out of here before anything happens to me."

"Looks to me like something has _already_ happened to you," Inkers muses. "And maybe that's a good thing."

"Ha," I declare dismissively. "What's good about being trapped in an enemy Inkling's bedroom?"

"You're not trapped, and I'm not your enemy."

"You can't fight instincts, ink head," I say. "We are enemies by nature."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Do _you_ really _not_ believe it?"

"Right now, the only thing I believe is that you're hungry," he says as my stomach rumbles loudly. "And that makes two of us. What do you say we go get some breakfast?"

"…Fine." I say at last in a defeatist tone, getting up and stretching my arms, suddenly letting out a loud gasp of pain. "Ooh, my back!"

"Are you okay?" Inkers asks, starting towards me, reaching out with his left hand.

"Stay back!" I bark, my (arguably his) gun still in my hand. I know it can't fire, but I reckon I can hit pretty hard with it if I have t- "GAH!" I cry, putting a hand to my lower back, which feels like a tank ran over it.

"You're hurt, aren't you?" Inkers says, concern in his voice, and it actually sounds genuine. Still, what's it to him if I am? He's blasted my comrades in arms out of his way and thought nothing of it. What business is it of his if I've been pushing myself too hard lately with the ink canister just compounding the physical stress I've been disregarding in my quest to toughen up? It's not like I don't- Oh, I can hardly even _think_ clearly, it hurts so bad! I cry out again, doubling over, an action that actually makes me give a little scream involuntarily. "Owwwww…" I wail, blinking back tears of agony.

"Stop moving!" Inkers orders sharply and for once, I take the smart response, even if I'd rather not where he is concerned. I reluctantly freeze, allowing him to proceed behind me and detach the ink canister from my back, hissing in pain as the clips unhook from my flesh. I feel like a weight has been lifted from me in more ways than one, but my back is still in an awful state. Still, I'm determined to act tough; I'm nothing if not stubborn. I straighten up and start forward, but Inkers is - in this case, at least - no fool and sees right through my facade to see me wincing as I walk, trying to keep my back precariously steady and straight.

"I am… in acceptable condition," I say through gritted fangs as he hurries up to me and places a hand on my shoulder to halt me.

"Bull kelp," he declares. "You're clearly in agony and you're not going anywhere until something is done about it."

"The only agony I'm presently experiencing is you being a pain in the neck!" I snarl savagely, but he ignores me and guides me back to the bed, very carefully laying me down.

"I'm gonna go get my friend," he tells me. "She might be able to help. And don't you dare move from this bed while I'm out of the room," he says sternly.

As Inkers walks out, I sigh heavily. "Incapacitated at the hands of an Inkling who sees himself as some kind of samaritan. Oy vey."

* * *

Callie's POV:

I gotta be honest here.

I'm a little worried about Marie. I mean, why wouldn't I be? She's my cousin, though sometimes she feels more like a sister. A little sister that I feel inclined to look after. She's always been the more shy of the two of us. Shyness is not really a fitting trait for a celebrity, but then, we're not _just_ celebrities. Sure, we sometimes let our popularity go to our heads just a little bit, get all caught up in the moment and stuff, but we're still Inklings. If we are inked, do we not burst? We're not just faces on holo-vision or the media; we're people, too. Yep, when all is said and done, we're just two people.

Two people having frothy, creamy, inky coffees at this very moment.

Just sitting across from each other at the small table in this currently deserted studio.

I'm the calm one. Marie's the shy one. That's how it goes.

But Marie's never been this shy. Not ever. Not around me.

She's never been this quiet and reserved in the company of her own cousin. She has always felt that she's able to confide in me, to talk to me about anything, to… talk _at all_ , really. But lately, she just sits there in silence. I can't even get her to go over the script of our next show.

"So," I say, trying to initiate a conversation, taking a quick sip of my coffee (which is a light shade of purple) before continuing, hoping that Marie will feel inclined to throw in her two cents in the moment between my words. Even if she says 'So what?', I'll be happy right now. But no. Silence. Perpetual silence. And I know exactly why.

Wait.

Her mouth.

It's moving.

Her mouth is opening!

I can see her fangs, gleaming white and as well-kept as ever.

I can smell the one-too-many mints she has daily on her breath.

I can hear a subtle yet undeniable intake of air.

By the plankton, she's gonna do it.

She's going to speak!

For what feels like the first time in ages, she's gonna say something!

And I know that whatever it is, it'll be music to my-

A sigh.

A big sigh.

A big, heavy sigh.

A big, heavy sigh followed by… nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Just the closing of her mouth.

The action seems slow and deliberate, gums lowering like a drawbridge, fangs moving out of sight. It's like watching a sea flower bloom and wilt in rapid succession before my very eyes, and its beauty was lost so quickly that I didn't even see it. I swear I can hear a dull, echoing thud as the process completes.

Well, so much for that.

I know exactly why Marie's changed.

It was that Octoling.

Marie took one look at it and went into a state of panic.

She feels traumatised by her close encounter and now, offscreen, she won't say boo to a mollusk.

"Come on, Marie, please say something. Please?" I plead. She just looks at me, her amber eyes so sad. I let out a sigh of my own, but give my cousin a gentle, reassuring smile all the same. "Drink up your coffee," I say kindly. "Before it gets cold."

My phone then rings and I fumble through my pink leggings in search of it. I answer it and a big smile breaks out across my face. It's Inkers. At least I can always count on _him_ to say something funny and comforting.

"Agent 3," I greet cheerfully. "You staying fresh? Ah, of course. Yes, that's how it is, alright. Marie? Well, she's…" I hesitate, wondering how to describe my cousin's behaviour as of late without offending her. "Well, suffice to say that she's drinking a coffee right now that's almost as warm as her heart." Corny, but sweet. I notice the faintest of smiles appearing on Marie's face and she rolls her eyes. I feel lighter. My happiness quickly falters, however, when I hear Inkers' next words. "You're _what?!_ You want me to do _WHAT?!_ Inkers, you're a good friend and it'll take a lot to change that - not least because you saved Gramps - but this… Well, yeah, okay, but… No, I'm not trying to… Alright! You talked me into it. I must be mad, but I'll do it. Just give me ten, fifteen minutes to get over there, alright? I just hope you realise how dangerous this is. And how insane it sounds. Yeah, I'll send Gramps your regards. Okay. Stay fresh." I hang up. "Oh, boy…" I immediately exclaim. "He sure can pick 'em, that's for sure. Marie, I have to go out for a bit. Think you can hold down the fort?

No response.

"Attagirl," I say, deciding to take her silence as a yes. "Should be back in an hour, give or take."

As I walk out of the studio, I see an Inkling boy standing outside the glass window, looking dreadfully nervous about something. His head tentacles are a bright yellow, his eyes purple and quite wide at present. He's clearly hiding something behind his back. He spots me as I step out and he exclaims in surprise, practically jumping back several feet as he stares at me, a mixture of panic and awe on his face.

"You alright?" I ask, putting on a friendly smile to try and put him at ease. He just bites his lip, holds out the item he had been hiding behind his back to me and turns his head away, blushing profusely. I'm a little taken aback; he's offering me a bright blue rose! I notice a little note taped to it as I reach out slowly to take it. It reads:

 _You and your sister are awesome. I'm a big fan._

 _Stay fresh._

"How sweet," I say, reaching over and planting a light kiss on the nervous boy's cheek. He giggles stupidly and keels over in a dead faint, a big smile on his unconscious face. I can't help chuckling a little. "Boys," I mutter as I start towards the monorail station. " _Fan_ boys, that is."

* * *

Inkers' POV:

"I'm not doing this."

"You need to calm down."

"Look who's talking, little miss terror-in-your-eyes!"

"Just lie down, roll over and-"

"Don't say it like that!"

"Sigh. I don't think I can do this, either."

I watch as the celebrity Inkling and the battle-savvy Octoling exchange argumentative banter, the latter sitting up on my bed, looking apprehensive and indignant while the former stands there riddled with worry and exasperation.

"You are _not_ going to experiment on my spine!" Violet declares, her arms folded, a sour look on her face as she narrows her small pink eyes (her goggles are resting on the bedside table).

"It's not experimenting, and you don't have a spine," Callie insists. "At least I don't think so. Octoling biology is theorised to be greatly similar to that of Inklings."

"You're basing your medical skills on a _theory?"_ Violet asks, wide eyed. "Okay, I've heard enough." She leaps up, tries to run, howls in agony as her back seizes up again and she doubles over, slinking back over to the bed with pained whimpers.

"However," Callie continues, "When in humanoid form, 35% of an Inkling's natural ink solidifies into a pole-like structure that steadies and stabilises the humanoid build of a mature Inkling. It's what stops us from collapsing into a floppy pile of skin, flesh and ink. The head, arms and legs, on the other hand, contain heated levels of ink that allow said body parts to achieve a light yet firm state of being, making them steady and flexible enough to serve as usable limbs. Anyway, the point is that if you'd listened to me, you'd have known about the fluid-based cephalopod vertebrae and not made its condition worse."

"Made the _what_ worse?" Squelch asks, looking puzzled.

"The squid spine." I elaborate, familiar with the term.

"I still think you're a quack," Violet says, glaring at Callie coldly, "And that _you two_ are _crazy!_ " she adds, jabbing a finger at Squelch and myself.

"Don't take it personally," I say to Callie. "She has trust issues."

 _"I do not have trust issues!"_ Violet insists as she lies down, stretching out carefully front first on the bed, her chin resting on the pillow. "I have agony in my back!" she wails, tears flowing down her cheeks. "And I'm putting myself in your hands because I can't take it anymore." A small sob escapes her as she speaks.

"It's going to be alright," I say, shushing her gently and placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. She doesn't try to shake me off. I'm not sure whether she actually _wants_ to be comforted now or if she's afraid to offer any resistance in case it hurts her back more.

"Alright, here we go," Callie says, rolling back her sleeves. "Lucky I studied chiropractic treatment… for about two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" Violet shrieks. "But-!"

 _CRACK._

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

 _CRICK._

"YEOWWWWW!"

 _CR-R-RACKLE._

"OWIE OWIE OWIE!"

 _CRUNCH._

"GAAAAAH! WHAT THE HELL WAS _THAT?!_ "

"I didn't touch you then. I was taking a bite out of a candy bar," Callie says. "Your screams are unnerving me and I was trying to calm myself. Okay, one more good twist should do it…"

"Wait! Can't I just walk it off from here? I mean, It's not like I- YEARGH! Now that one _really_ hurt! And yet… it felt sort of… good."

"That means I did it right," Callie says, sounding decidedly proud of herself as she took a step back, folding her arms rather smugly. "You're all set, kid. Stay fresh."

"Oh, yeah!" Violet cries, leaping up and flexing her back. "I feel like I could win the Splatoon wars single-handed!"

"Well, good for you," Callie says cautiously. "So, we're good, right? We can all go our separate ways and forget this ever happened, right?"

"Hold it!" I say loudly. "Why are you both so xenophobic?" I then demand, getting to my feet, gazing from Callie to Squelch. "Why is _everyone_ so xenophobic in this city? Haven't you ever thought that there might be more to the world than what we know, including the people in it? Look at Violet. Come on, look at her! She's an Octarian, our so-called 'natural enemy'. Is she attacking us? No! She's happy! She's happy that we took the time to aid her in her hour of need when we could've just handed her over to the authorities and-"

"Yeah, that's great, I'm outta here," Violet says quickly, jumping out the window. We hear her cry out and watch as she quickly clambers back inside. "Someone almost saw me," she says, sounding scared. She clears her throat. "So, you were saying about being accepting of others?" she adds quickly, placing a hand on Squelch's shoulder, smiling meekly.

"What a hypocrite!" Squelch exclaims, but she can't help chuckling. In fact, we all share a weak chuckle.


	5. Turf's Up!

5: Turf's Up!

Violet's POV:

"This is a bad idea."

"That's the aftermath of your back injury talking."

"No, Seriously, ink boy, this is a bad idea," I insist, giving Inkers a stern look.

"Well, it might help if you stop _whispering!_ " Squelch hisses suddenly. "Sheldon's looking at us!"

I suppress a sigh. Here we are in an Inkling weapon emporium, the last place in existence any Octoling who wants to live to see tomorrow would willingly step into. I can't believe I went along with this.

I reach up and feel my head tentacles gingerly. Squelch convinced me - after Inkers convinced _her_ , of course - to style my tentacles to make me look more like an Inkling, hanging down way past my ears almost to my waist. It feels like I've got two long, purple eels hanging off my head, my suckers decorated with gold and silver glitter to make them look like 'accessories' as Squelch called them. This isn't going to work. Inklings may not be the highest ranking beings in my book, but I doubt that any of them are actually stupid enough to be fooled by such an obvious-

"Inkers!" the one called Sheldon suddenly cries, making us all jump. The strange little militant appears excited about something. "There's my main man! Looking fairly fresh as always, not least because you're flanked by two dames. I know the one on the far right is your ol' chum, but who's that tall drink of ink right next to you?"

Tall drink of ink? Is that supposed to be some sort of pick-up line? Flattery doesn't charge _these_ batteries, that's for sure…

"This is Violet," Inkers says, introducing me before I have a chance to give Sheldon a piece of my mind. "She's a recent acquaintance of mine from-"

"The far side of town!" Squelch blurts out wildly, looking worried. In spite of my determinedly indifferent demeanour, I nudge her in the shoulder. She's not being very subtle. I have a feeling that she's gonna turn me in first chance she gets. It's clear that she doesn't like me. The feeling is quite mutual.

"I see," Sheldon muses calmly. Something about the way he said that makes me feel uneasy. I hastily straighten my collar and fix my gaze on a spot on the ceiling of the shop. While it feels strange to be out of my Octoling armour, I will admit, albeit reluctantly, that this white shirt with an insignia of a green squid on it and the accompanying purple shorts are quite comfortable. I insisted on keeping my combat boots, however; if I'm going to be 'hanging out' with an oddball pair of Inklings, I want to have good arch support should I need to run away at any point. "So, what d'you fresh kids need me to suit you up with?" Sheldon continues. "Chargers? Burst Bombs? I just got a new Roller in that'll really knock your socks off!"

"Sounds like a blast, but right now I need you to take a look at this," Inkers says, handing over my/his Splattershot Jr. to the alleged weapons expert. "It's Violet's. It seems to be jammed."

"I'll say!" Sheldon exclaims, turning the small firearm over in his hands. "And I can see why! It's an old fossil among firearms! Just look at this flawed design. Power Egg focused technology… Barely holds enough ink for a cup of coffee… Made from materials that are somewhat ink soluble… Rapid fire function seems less than standard… Bah!" he declares, tossing the gun carelessly over the counter behind him. It clatters loudly against the floor. "It's become clogged with its own ink reserves, but it was a piece of junk anyway. My dear young lady, where did you ever _find_ something so _shoddy?_ " he asks, looking at me.

"Octo Valley," I say without thinking. "Some Inkli- Uh, I mean, _Octarian_ fiend must've dropped it." Yes, not a bad save, if I do say so myself.

"Ah. It's not unheard of for an Octoling to ink an Inkling soldier and take their weapon as a trophy prize," Sheldon says, nodding darkly. "And yet, I fear the poor Inkling soul who wielded this weapon was misled by some dodgy old commander who didn't have his head in the game anymore. Reminds me of that Cap'n Cuttlefish. Never quite on the ball."

"Hey, give him a _little_ credit," Inkers mutters quietly. "I mean, it's thanks to him that I got the Great Zap Fish back."

"Anyway, my dear, I can't let you walk around with an unreliable weapon like that," Sheldon continues. "A young lady should be fitted out with something that's… that's…"

"Simple yet effective?" Inkers suggests. Clearly he doesn't want me getting my hands on anything _too_ powerful lest I use it against him. He's smart. Kind of. A little. And charming. Just a bit. What the hell am I thinking about?!

"Simple and- Yes! Exactly!" Sheldon says, nodding eagerly. "And I think I've got just the thing here. I like to call it the Beginner's All-Purpose Contingency Package!"

"Package?" Squelch asks, again sounding a little concerned.

"Quite so," Sheldon babbles excitedly, straightening his goggles before reaching over and pulling aside a covering on the wall, beyond which is a secret compartment lined with a bright red firearm, several explosives and a spherical device. "Behold! A Rapid Blaster with a very moderate fire rate and quite decent range, not to mention evenly dished out damage. Ideal for taking out enemies at both close range and several paces away. And if you still can't reach your target, the included Ink Mines can give your foes a nasty surprise! Perhaps you could even set one down and use the Rapid Blaster to chase them into it! And for those times when your enemies are getting the drop on you, the Bubbler often serves as your one ace in the hole, providing impenetrable force field technology around your being… for a few moments. It's attack and defence in one neat bundle, and just as compensation for your former weapon, I'll sell it to you for half- No, a _third_ of the going price."

"Well, I…" I begin, not sure how to proceed, especially since I'm not exactly bogged down with Inkling currency.

"We'll take it," Inkers says, dropping a sizeable sack of coins onto the counter. "And that Slosher. Squelch, fancy a new Splatterscope while we're at it?"

"Would I?!" Squelch exclaims, grinning madly for the first time since we met face to face. "With the promise of the Bomb Rush feature? How could I possibly say no?"

* * *

"This firearm is not bad, I'll admit," I say with a nonchalant shrug, gazing at my new weapon as we stride casually through Inkopolis Plaza. "I don't suppose you know of a target range where we can, shall we say, test its mettle?"

"Yeah, but I know of a much more fun way to get to know a weapon's strengths," Inkers says slyly, leading us in the direction of Inkopolis Tower. Squelch seems surprised as we approach the building. She starts whispering to her friend. She thinks I can't hear her, but I'll have her know that my ears work just fine. I didn't survive for this long without acute hearing.

"You're going to take her in _there?_ " Squelch asks softly. "Even with all the extra safety protocols of late, are you _sure_ that's a good idea?"

Inkers stops in his tracks, turns on the spot, puts his hands firmly yet gently on Squelch's shoulders and looks her straight in the eyes. His next words are spoken calmly, clearly and without any concern that I might hear. That's the thing about Inkers; he doesn't like to conceal things, apparently.

"Squelch, would I even _consider_ this if I didn't think it was a good idea?" he asked, tilting his head, looking at the girl questioningly, yet there was a certain knowing smugness in his tone. It seemed almost teasing.

Squelch hesitates. "No." she says slowly.

"And have I ever done anything to put you in an unsafe position?"

"…No."

"And _would_ I do that to my bestest buddy in the whole wide world?"

"No," Squelch says, hanging her head. "I'm sorry, Inkers. I trust your judgement, you know I do, but…" She hesitates, glancing over at me. I just fold my arms and stand there like a big shot. If she was expecting me to pretend not to hear her talking about me as if I'm not here - while I'm standing right in front of her, no less - she's out of luck. "It's just… This is all so strange."

Inkers smiles and gives Squelch what I believe is referred to as a 'noogie', vigorously rubbing his fist against the top of her head in a playful manner.

"Strange can be a good thing," he says. "Strange opens the door to new experiences. And new friends," he adds, looking right at me as he says this. I feel something catch in my chest. I think I'm in a bit of disbelieving shock. This childish simpleton actually perceives me as a… friend? That's preposterous! That's insane! That's… That's…

"Cool."

Wha…? Say what? What just happened? Who said that and why? Wait… No. Was that… me? _Me?!_ But why would I say such a thing? It doesn't even make sense! Inklings and Octarians are enemies by nature! We live to see the other perish! It's all we have… isn't it?

But then, I've never really had friends before, being focused on the war…

My guard's slipping.

My integrity as a soldier is being overwhelmed by my adolescence.

I may walk, talk and act like a stony figure of war, but as I said before, I'm still just a kid. And there are certain things a kid needs. Things more important than armour and a blaster. Things that coins can't buy.

Things that I might not find again for a long while…

As I'm standing there, looking horrified at my own words, Inkers beams, but doesn't say anything, for which I'm thankful. As for Squelch, she looks every bit as dumbfounded as I feel.

"Let's get going," Inkers says, breaking the devastating - yet perhaps enlightening - silence at last. We walk quickly and quietly to the tower. I glance sideways at Squelch and catch her eye. She looks to be caught up in personal worries at first, but then…

Oh?

Is that a tiny, reluctant smile playing at the corners of her mouth?

A _friendly_ smile, no less?

The kind of smile one might reserve for someone they've accepted as a friend?

I feel a fluttering sensation in my stomach.

As we step into Inkopolis Tower, the automatic doors sliding shut behind us, I find myself standing in a small room dimly lit by neon lights. There's something intriguing about this spot… even if it does appear to be an empty room. I get the feeling that there's something more here...

 _"Welcome to Inkopolis Tower,"_ a computerised female voice greets. " _Please select battle type."_

"Battle type?" I repeat softly, wondering just what's going on.

"Regular battle. Standard Turf War. With friends," Inkers states.

"Ooh, I needed this," Squelch mutters, looking very eager. "Just two days without and I nearly went nuts."

 _"Turf War locked in. Each player please state your name, level, weapon type and rank."_

"Inkers. Level fifteen. Slosher. Rank B plus," Inkers states, turning a dial on his Slosher as he speaks. "Power on."

"Squelch. Level fourteen. Charger. Rank B. Power on," Squelch states, prepping her charger, grinning madly.

I step forward uncertainly, glancing back at Inkers. He smiles encouragingly. I clear my throat, raising my new blaster.

"Violet. Level… one, I guess. Shooter. Rank… uh…"

"C minus," Inkers whispers helpfully.

"Rank C minus. Power on!" I conclude, making sure my Rapid Blaster is operational.

"Ooh, my body is ready," Squelch mutters, fidgeting restlessly. "Man, you'd better believe my body is freak-ing read-y."

"Um, just so I know, what exactly-?" I begin, but I cry out as the floor suddenly gives way, sending us plummeting into darkness. I scream, but Squelch lets out a joyful whoop. I'm starting to doubt her conventional sanity. Inkers raises his Slosher weapon and cries, "Yeah!" like he's having the time of his life. Suddenly, I feel a tingling sensation throughout my body and I feel queasy. My vision becomes obscured and the next thing I know, I'm standing on solid ground, but the whole world seems to be swaying. I start to fall onto my side, but someone catches me and supports my weight. I hear a familiar chuckle.

"Don't worry, Vi," I hear Inkers say, his voice sounding like it's miles away. "The dizziness will wear off in a few seconds."

"Yikes. I've never seen anyone react so badly to teleporting," Squelch muses. "I think she might even puke."

"It must be her first time. Octolings are used to kettle technology, not cyberspace technology."

"Uhhhh…" I groan, staggering away from Inkers, my vision coming back into focus. I find myself puzzled as I take in my surroundings. "Where are we?"

The scenery is watery ocean as far as the eye can see. We're standing on a raised platform that appears to be part of a harbour. The ground immediately below us is circular and with a grid design, not unlike the floor of Inkopolis Tower. The rest of the harbour seems to have a concrete floor, however. I turn to face Inkers and Squelch, letting out a shriek when I find that their head tentacles are lime green!

"What?" Squelch asks, oblivious to what is making me point at her in bewildered horror, my mouth opening and closing, no words coming out. "Is there something on my face?"

"Our tentacles changed colour so as to make it easy for us to identify team members during matches," Inkers explains. "Yours are green too, actually."

I reach up and feel my tentacles, mortified. "Ewwwww!" I wail rather childishly. "Green is so not the new purple!"

Inkers and Squelch burst out laughing at my words. Well, I'm glad _some_ of us find this funny. I turn away, starting to sulk.

"Oh, man, that's priceless!" Squelch chortles. "What a way to start the Turf War!"

"And just what do you mean by Turf War?" I snap. "Are you planning to hunt me for sport or something?"

"Nah, this is just harmless fun," Inkers assures me. "This is a game, so to speak. The goal is to spread the more ink over the ground than your opponents. The team with the most ground covered - literally - wins."

I stare at him for a full five seconds. "That is so… stupid!" I declare. "What's the point of _that?_ You're competing to see who can make a bigger mess? What're we, two years old?"

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it," Squelch exclaims. "Anyway, we should be starting any second… or whenever our fourth team member gets here."

Right on cue, a rather weak-kneed Inkling appears in a flurry of green particles before us, out of breath and clutching a Roller weapon in shaky hands. "Sorry," he babbles meekly. "Would've been here sooner, but Mom was being… well, Mom."

"Hugo," Inkers greets brightly, giving the nasally-voiced boy a high five. "Good to see you. I can't think of a better addition to our team."

"I can," Hugo says glumly. "I'm not cut out for this stuff, Inks. I'm all thumbs with a gun. I only show up because you keep inviting me out of pity."

"Pity? Nothing of the sort!" Inkers says kindly. "You just need to work on your confidence a little bit."

"Or a big bit," Squelch says cheekily. "Ah, don't worry about it, Hugo. Like Inky said, nice to see ya."

"We're starting!" Inkers gasps, turning to face the platforms spread out before us.

 _"3…"_

 _"2…"_

 _"1…"_

"Hey, wait a second!" I bark. "I still don't quite-!"

 _"Go!"_

And with that, I find myself caught up in utter chaos, and I do mean UTTER CHAOS. Seriously, I have no idea what I've gotten myself into. Inkers and Squelch rush ahead, the former throwing ink all over the place and the latter holding her Charger like a sniper rifle, the deranged grin on her face growing wider and more unsettling all the time. Hugo lags behind, painting a steady path of ink all over the area behind us, glancing left and right nervously. Uncertainly and somewhat reluctantly, I aim my weapon at a patch of untouched ground and fire a few test shots to make sure my new firearm is operational and to cover a few spots that my teammates might've missed. Teammates. Feels strange to regard them as such, especially since they seem to be moving haphazardly, spreading out rather than staying close. Where I come from, there's safety in numbers.

I quickly find myself alone and completely out in the open, which is bad because the enemy team is coming right at me, and I'll say this much: their weapons are NOT aimed at the _ground!_ In fact, the Inkling at the head of the yellow-tentacled group suddenly tosses something at me. I recognise it as a Splat Bomb! I cry out and dive for cover as it explodes, covering much of the green ink my team has set down with yellow, overlapping it. I look beyond my opponents. Nearly the whole pier has been turned yellow. Talk about one-sided! This just reinforces my belief that this is stupid.

I notice too late that a yellow tentacled Inkling is racing towards me from my right with a huge Roller. I only have time to scream as I'm suddenly flattened by an onslaught of weighty yellow ink, my life having been cut short by-

"Wha…?" I say in disbelief as I re-materialise on the pad where my team had started.

"What did I tell you?" Inkers says as he suddenly appears right beside me, grinning broadly, his fangs showing. "It's just pure fun."

"So, we're not in any real danger?" I ask, honestly not sure to be relieved or stick with being bewildered.

"Nope, but if you want to get the best chance of winning, you have to pull out all the stops," With that, he shifts into squid form and swims away. "And you can super jump here!" he calls back.

Taking his words to heart, I try my luck with a literal leap of faith…

…And land right in the midst of the enemy team.

"Oh, carp," is all I can mutter as the opposing Inklings grin wickedly, taking aim me with their weapons, knowing that I've got nowhere to run. Well, this turned around quick, didn't it?

And speaking of turning things around quick…

 _SPLAT!_

I find myself standing there coated in not yellow ink, but green. The opponents are nowhere to be seen. I turn to see Squelch standing atop a nearby platform, looking down at me. She grins at me. Not another deranged grin, but a sort of satisfied yet reassuring look. I find myself grinning back.

These guys have got my back, and I never thought I'd see the day. Inklings and Octarians fighting side by side… Kind of humbling in a very bizarre way.

A terrified scream then catches my attention and I whirl around to see Hugo being chased by the enemy Inkling with the Roller. Hugo appears to have abandoned his own Roller in his panic. Something suddenly comes over me and I super jump straight up on impulse. Right before I hit the ground, I fire at the Inkling behind Hugo, not forcefully enough to ink him as I going for, but enough to make him stop, look up in time to see me land in front of him and he yelps, forgetting that he could easily club me with that Roller and instead turns tail and runs away. I shoot him in the back, blasting him into pseudo-oblivion. They say it's cowardly to shoot someone in the back, but as this is just a game, I don't think anyone's going to judge me _too_ harshly. Oh, man, this is like a fantasy! I can ink as many Inklings as I want with absolutely no consequences to myself or them! Talk about stress relief made easy! And yet… there is more at work here.

I aim at the ground around me and start spraying a steady barrage of shots, turning the place green little by little. I go octopus to refill my ink reserves, the cool substance soothing on my pores, and then I'm back to human form, blasting and blasting, spinning and twirling almost like a ballet dancer as I spray ink like a fountain, covering everything for a good twenty metre radius. I even toss out a few ink mines, just to make sure that this area will not be easy for our enemies to reclaim.

"Wow, you're good," Hugo says. I had forgotten that he's been standing here for the last minute or so. He then looks past me. "Whoa, look at Inkers go!"

Glancing back, I see Inkers chasing what appears to be the entire enemy team, herding them into range of Squelch's Charger, and then-

 _SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!_

Green ink as far as the eye can see.

"Ten seconds remaining!" Hugo cries excitedly. "I think we just might win this! And I'm gonna do my part!" he declares, retracing his steps, picking up his Roller and proceeding to cover every last bit of ground he can find… which isn't all that much.

A whistle blows and everything stops. The chaos, the noise, the players - everything just seems to come to a standstill. All eyes are on a fat black and white cat that has apparently climbed to the top of the arena. It holds a green flag in one hand, yellow in the other. It looks around, surveying the scenery and then, after a brief moment of hesitation, it raises the green flag.

"WOOOOHOOOOOO!" Inkers and Squelch whoop, dancing with joy, firing off victory shots into the air. They briefly hug in this wild state of euphoria and then exchange high fives. They're laughing so joyfully, being so giddy. It was only a game, after all. There's no need to fly of the-

"YEAH! Did we totally kick butt or what?"

Another involuntary quote on my part, but at this point, I don't care. These games, these Turf Wars, are exhilarating!

Inkers chuckles knowingly, stepping up to me. "I knew it," he said, smiling. "A little fun was all you needed to lighten up."

"Oh. Um… Yeah," I say awkwardly, feeling my cheeks redden slightly. I don't deny it. I _did_ enjoy the absurd competitive sport I just took part in. It was a good workout that has left me wanting more. "I guess it was kind of… rad," I holster my weapon and rub my hands together. "So, what's next? Lunch? I'm starving."

Squelch laughs. "Maybe I had you all wrong," she says. "You've got the fresh streak of a true-blue Inkling."

"Hey, uh, I'll buy us lunch," Hugo offers quickly. "I know a place that does good smoothies."

"Lead the way," Inkers says as we suddenly teleport back to Inkopolis Plaza. "Today, smoothies. Tomorrow night… we party."

I blink in puzzlement. "Party?"

"OMG, you're right!" Squelch exclaims, looking more excited than ever. "I almost forgot! It's time for…"

* * *

Spyke's POV:

"Splatfest," I muse, glancing over at the entrance of my alleyway, my humble abode, to see some young Inkling chick hanging a poster on the wall. "Another realisation of this festival called life… and a chance to do business and bag some new Super Sea Snails."

I glance at my pile of the shelled creatures, my pride and joy, my bread and butter, before gazing up into the blue yonder.

"Looks like it might rain."

Right then, some unenlightened square living in an apartment up above decides to empty their wastepaper basket out the window, not even looking to make sure that it all goes into the dumpster.

"That is so not the rain I envisioned, dude," I mutter as I reach up and brush a few crumpled up pieces of paper out of my coral. Sigh. Such is street life.


End file.
